


It's you, it's always you

by moonlite



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-25
Updated: 2019-06-25
Packaged: 2020-05-19 11:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19356589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlite/pseuds/moonlite
Summary: Some break up, some stuff, and ducks.This happened and I don't even know how to divide this so here you have it all. Enjoy.Title inspired by that one song by Lana del Rey I don't really remember anymore. I think it was Video Games





	It's you, it's always you

*Present day*

“Hey,”

That’s usually how it starts, doesn’t it? A simple ‘hey’. A small ‘hello’. An unassuming ‘how’re you doing?’. That’s how it all starts.

Aziraphale, Ezra as Adam, likes to call him, smiled warmly at his cup of tea, watching the milk swirl together with the dark brew. It has indeed been a long day and spending his time in this cafe always calmed him, watching the people go on about their business, either minding the world around them or not.

“Hello, Adam. I’m very glad to see you,”

“Yeah. It’s been a long time, uncle Ezra”

A long time is an understatement. It feels like a millennium or two, at least, since he last talked to the child that is now a man in front of him. He remembers mentoring the child, watching him closely. He remembers fussing over him in a way that made him too involved yet not enough.

“How’s your studies? I heard you are taking up Linguistics in college?” the blonde man asked, wrapping his hands around the mug of tea in his hands, warming up his fingers. It was a cold autumn day after all.

“Yeah. I used to take up literature but I found out that I can’t really get myself to read things I’m not interested in,” Adam shrugged, “I thought you’d teach at the local university? What happened?”

“I did but I’m currently in Oxford trying to see if I can work things out there. You are in UCL, right?”

“Yeah. Mum and dad went there so I’m fine with that. I can always take my masters somewhere,” Adam nodded, eyeing not only Aziraphale’s mug but also the menu, deciding between a mocha or his usual americano. “How’s uncle Tony?”

“Crowley?” he asked. Adam took a very curious liking to Crowley and started calling him ‘uncle Tony’. They all think it’s because of his stage name ‘Anthony’ so everybody indeed called him Tony back then. “I don’t really know.”

Adam looked pensive for a moment before offering to get him another of the one he’s having; Earl Grey with a dash of milk. Or as Crowley used to call it: ‘milky lemon’. Aziraphale smiled to himself - Crowley used to come up with the silliest of names for food he doesn’t seem to like or at least never tried. He used to think that that’s his way of understanding the world around him - giving them names, owning them in a way.

-

*Freshman year, College*

“Hey,”

Aziraphale looked up from his drink - lemonade because he’ll be driving for his friends later - and found a pair of sunglasses facing him in the already darkened place, thin lips smirking like he knows something Aziraphale doesn’t.

“Hello,” he answered, straightening up and looking at the stranger properly. Of course, no proper English man would converse with someone in a closed-off body language if you ask him. He was raised right and people would know it.

“What are you drinking?” the stranger asked before calling the attention of the barkeeper, telling him to give him what the blonde was having. Aziraphale chuckled at that, not answering and waiting for the man’s reaction to the usual lemonade offered everywhere. Of course, his has more sugar than usual. “Lemonade? Really?”

“Designated driver,” Aziraphale said like that would explain everything. And surprisingly, it did. The red-headed man nodded and took a sip of the drink, humming, like he was appreciating the drink as it is and not the reason why he has it in his hands right now. Aziraphale took this chance to look at the stranger. Red hair, curly, long, braided in random places like he absentmindedly braided them out of boredom. He was wearing a leather jacket and tight denim and boots. The blonde had to wonder if the man can actually move in those tight denim when he requires slacks to comfortably do his tasks.

“What are you thinking?” The stranger asked him, pulling him back to reality. “You look like you’re doing maths inside your head.”

“I - I’m actually an English major so I can’t be doing maths,” he smiled. The stranger only nodded and they are back to their companionable silence before Gabriel disturbed their peace by situating himself between them, sweating palms grabbing Aziraphale’s face and loud music flooding his words, making him hard to understand but he knew it was time to go home. They do have a midterm exam to prepare for after all.

Aziraphale tried to look past Gabriel and to the stranger he was talking to but found that he’s gone, glass of lemonade, unfinished, left on the table. Aziraphale shrugged and helped Gabriel outside the place with their other friends in tow, talking loudly about how they wish they don’t have school to worry about.

-

It was three days before Aziraphale found the piece of paper in his pocket. It wasn’t much of a paper but a tissue paper with something written on it.

MEET ME @ ST. JAMES 3:00  
I WILL WAIT

He frowned and looked at the tissue paper closely. How did it get there? Who could’ve written it and - Aziraphale grabbed the coat and immediately turned to the door. He lived near St. James at the moment and it was 2:35. He can make it there in 20 minutes if he walked fast enough. Out the door, he bumped into Hastur who only grumbled but ignored him in his frantic state.

Aziraphale was catching his breath when he arrived. It was a big place and he honestly has no idea where to look first. It was a stupid decision anyway, almost running all the way to the park, when he isn’t even sure if it was the stranger he met in the club. And it has been three days. He couldn’t have been waiting for him there every day at 3:00, that would be illogical. But he pursued anyway, walking around the place, looking at people, catching his breath, before he spotted a familiar figure by the waters. This one’s wearing black, sunglasses on his head, throwing something at the ducks that gathered in front of him. He was cooing at them, calling them little hungry devils.

“I once heard that agents used to feed the ducks here that they've developed a Pavlovian reaction to them,” he spoke softly, coming up to and standing beside him.

“They’ve been keeping me company is all. Glad you came, angel,” the stranger smiled and finally faced him.

Amber eyes stared at him. They pinned him into place and he’s never seen a more beautiful pair of eyes than those. They reminded him of freshly harvested honey in spring, glistening under the bright warm sky, making him feel warm inside. They were warm. So warm that he felt like burrowing himself beneath the sheets and wrapping himself in a blanket. They were so bright they were almost golden.

“Aziraphale,” he spoke softly, reaching out a hand to the man.

“Crowley. Thought I’d never know your name,” the man, Crowley, smiled and held his hand a second longer before letting it go. It sent a certain tingle up his arm but he was too busy hiding a blush to notice what happened. “You took your time, angel.”

“I didn’t really think you’d be here. I just found the note earlier,” he tried to explain, reaching inside his pocket and showing him the note. Crowley took it and placed it inside his coat pocket.

“I have patience. And ducks. See?” he motioned to the ducks who responded so very kindly by quacking at him. “I was almost sure you’d never show up.” he added.

Why did he show up? What made him show up? What urged him to pick his stuff and go? He wasn’t even sure what he was doing or who he was going to see. He wasn’t even sure if the note was his and not Gabriel’s. But he rushed to the park and looked. Like something compelled him to. Like a voice urging yes, yes. Go and look. See who you’ll find.

“I’m a very curious person,” he answered instead, looking at the ducks, frowning at himself. Crowley, for his part, bumped him with his elbow, a small smile playing on his lips, making Aziraphale smile too like he has no choice in the matter.

-

From twice a month to once a week. Crowley slowly invaded his life and embedded himself between the lines of his existence. He slowly became a constant in his little world, a reassuring presence whenever he’s in doubt. His voice gradually occupied his thoughts, speaking to him in tongues he was never used to; judging. Always judging him, his friends, his clothes - clothes! Crowley has a penchant for judging people based on their clothes - and even his socks.

“Tartan is so in the past, angel. Do you want me to get you new socks?” Crowley asked one day while they lounged in St. James’. Aziraphale fed the ducks this time.

“I do not understand why you are so concerned about how I look. I say nothing of your leather coat in the middle of summer,” he tried to contest, glancing briefly at the said coat on his lap, resting guiltily.

“Chicks dig it,” Crowley shrugged like that answers everything.

“Obviously. The ducks look excited every time you’re here,” Aziraphale mused, making a show of checking the aforementioned coat and humming like he’s a critique handling a top of the line garment. Crowley groaned and snatched the jacket, slinging it over his shoulder as he stood up waiting for the other man to do the same.

“Let’s grab lunch,” he said, walking to a direction, aimless, undecided.

“Where?”

“The Ritz,”

“Can you afford it? Because I’m living off my parents’ - ”

“I can’t. But it felt good saying it. And someday, angel, I’ll take you there and we’ll drink their most expensive wine and share a slice of cake,” he winked and Aziraphale believed him.

Oh how Aziraphale believed him.  
-

*Present day*

How should he describe Crowley?

Daring?

Careless?

Aziraphale bit his lower lip and frowned. He would say selfless. Giving. Secretly altruistic. Crowley was the kind of man who would buy you a pen and tell you he found it on the floor. He isn’t a big fan of helping but he cares. A lot. And Aziraphale remembers being enamored by his heart.

“What are you thinking, uncle Ezra?” Adam asked upon returning, two mugs in hand.

“Nothing really, dear. Just thinking if I locked my apartment,” he smiled, thanking the child for the cup of tea. “How are your parents?”

“They’re fine. Mum joined the local book club in Tadfield. Dad plays golf with his boss sometimes,” said Adam “I think it helps with his position in the office.” he added.

He’s heard a great deal about that; playing a sport with your colleagues so you’d all get along. A team building of some sort. He was never really a fan of those. He always chooses to remain behind, be a sub for the teacher on leave, get a full load for summer classes, give lectures in winter in local foster homes and tell children stories about warmth and family and happy life. It’s his way of paying back, somehow. Or maybe it just makes him feel good to know that he’s touching lives.

“I see Mr. Young is still at it. What did he say about your mum’s book club?”

“He sometimes joins them, when he has the time. Mum appreciates it a lot and lets him off the hook for playing golf with his boss regularly,” Adam explained.

-

*Sophomore year, College*

“What do you mean you can’t come to dinner?” Aziraphale asked Crowley who was lounging on his bed like he owns it.

“I mean, I have band practice with the boys and I can’t come,” he answered. Crowley is supposed to meet his parents in a week. They will be dropping by to check on him before they go to New York for a charity gala. His parents are some well-respected people but he never really talks about it. “You know Christmas is coming up.”

The blonde sighed and moved himself to the bed, Crowley’s open arms welcoming his weight and his warmth surrounded him. “Oh, alright. Just promise me you’ll record your performance so I don’t miss anything,”

“Yes, angel,”

“And make sure it’s Beel who records it. Ligur has shaky hands,”

“Yes, angel,”

“Wear your red scarf. It’s going to be cold,”

“Yes, angel,”

“Grow your hair. I like your hair,”

“Yes, angel,”

“I love you,”

“Yes, a - what?” Crowley immediately detached himself and stared at Aziraphale like the man just said the Queen said she’s pregnant. Aziraphale, for his part, tried to look as innocent as he can - although Crowley would disagree and say that Aziraphale always looks innocent hence he not having the heart to corrupt him - and asked what.

“What did you say?” Crowley asked, lips already stretching in a grin, eyes getting brighter, reminding the blonde man of the first time he saw his eyes. Like golden honey in spring.

“I like your hair?” he asked, trying so hard to fight the blush threatening to show.

“You said - you - Oh, Aziraphale,” Crowley was laughing as he pulled him into his chest, his voice surrounding him like fleece and hot cocoa, warming him up inside and out. “I love you. I love you so much.”

“I know,”

-

“It’s a pity he couldn’t make it,” his father frowned, looking at him with searching eyes. Of the two, his father had been the one more adamant on meeting Crowley when he told him that he met someone in London. His mother had that knowing look in her eyes, teasing even, and never asked questions. She only answered his father and told him to stop fussing over Crowley’s absence.

“I just don’t understand what can be more important than our boy and meeting his parents,” he spoke, his voice booming and rather loud. Aziraphale knew he was disappointed and really, all he can do is sit there and take his anger like he always does.

“Your son is not a child anymore. His friends aren’t as well. They are young sub-professionals who tend to what they must like we did when they were in their place,” his mother answered.

“I know. But I made time to meet your parents. I wanted them to know I was serious about you,” even though I wasn’t the father of the child you were carrying. The unsaid words were louder in Aziraphale’s ears than the ones spoken.

His father had darker hair with specks of white here and there. It’s styled back but he knows he has a straight hair. His eyes were bright blue and his skin was sun-kissed. He shifted his eyes to his mother and looked at her strawberry blonde hair. When he was younger, his mother would bleach her hair so they’d have the same almost white blonde but then when he started high school, his mother stopped coloring her hair and his head stood out in family photos.

Almost white. That’s how most of his peers would describe it. When he played house with the kids from the neighborhood, he would always be the father or grandfather because old people had white hair. His skin was pale too. No matter how much he stayed out the sun, he would only get red and sunburnt but never the healthy complexion his father had and he was always jealous. He only accepted his skin when he was in college and London proved to be a very uncaring city.

“I know. But times are changing,” was his mother’s only answer before he felt a hand on his shoulder and when he looked up, Crowley was right there, wearing a yellow jacket, a white shirt, and his patented denim.

“Good evening, angel. Sorry, I’m late. No cab would take me,” he smiled at him and he almost cried as he watched Crowley face his parents.

-

*Present day*

“How about you? Developing a taste for golf?” Aziraphale asked. Adam laughed at that, shaking his head.

“I never liked it. I don’t see the fun in hitting a ball and seeing it drop in a hole and getting someone else get it for you,”

“Then what do you do when you’re not busy studying?”

“Music, mostly. I sometimes play for the local bar. I get a little extra and it helps buy food. I save up a bit and I spend that on things I need in school,” Aziraphale nodded approvingly. When he was still studying, his parents made sure he was comfortable but he liked the work. He would volunteer in foster homes, do a reading in the local library for the kids, even have an open night discussion for the library goers every Wednesday, their small book club discussions expanding from fiction writers to theorists mostly because of the students and some of his classmates who frequented the place.

“That’s good. Sounds like you are enjoying your time despite school,”

“Yeah. I owe that to you and uncle Tony, you know? You made sure I studied well and he made sure I balanced in the fun,” Adam smiled. Adam was never really under his parents’ care after they moved into London from Tadfield. He was mostly with him in his apartment after they moved into the apartment next door. His parents became busy working and he volunteered to babysit the boy.

-

*Sophomore year*

“New neighbor?”

"What do you mean?"

"Saw a kid walking outside. Asked me if I lived here," Crowley shrugged as he placed the bag of takeaways on the table of his makeshift kitchen. A new neighbor meant someone moved in downstairs and is occupying one of the nicer apartments. The rest of the rooms upstairs had been renovated to be shared by students in the nearest university. "Told him my boyfriend did."

It still makes him blush - Crowley calling him his boyfriend. Officially too! After his parents thought they'd be doing him a disservice if they drive a man who has devoted himself to him away. It was embarrassing but it was adorable all the same.

"...and?"

"And?"

"He's a child and his parents could've been the type," the type. The homophobic type. The ones who frown at them for sitting next to each other at St. James' park. The type to chastise them for even sharing a book under a tree.

"Nah. Dun think so. Mr. Young was actually happy the building encourages diversity and acceptance. Said his son could benefit from an environment of nice fellas," oh. So they are nice, then.

"Wait. You met his father?"

-

*Present day*

"I still don't remember who my mum hired as my babysitter back then. I was always with you two so I just thought I get to have two nannies,"

"I believe it was your dad. Your uncle Tony somehow convinced your father to let him babysit you and he just brought you to my room every time," he smiled, the first time he met Adam a fond memory he still keeps.

"Oh, yeah. Then dad would ask him how I am all of a sudden listening to Bach. I remember you playing him when you study,"

-

*Sophomore year, College*

"Hello,"

Aziraphale turned around to answer. He thought it was only a lost child but then he locks his door.

"Hello. And who might you be?"

"Adam Young. Uncle Tony told me I can come here. He's on his way with dinner," the young child explained and Aziraphale only nodded. "He said I shouldn't disturb you if you're studying."

"That sounds like my Crowley. Well, just sit there and try to be a good boy. Music?"

When Crowley arrived, sure enough, Aziraphale was telling Adam how Hamlet wasn't really very famous when it was released but it has, somehow, gained attention. And Adam, the learner that he is, absorbed everything Aziraphale said and asked appropriate questions.

"Some say that the bard sold his soul to the devil," Crowley smiled, rumpling the boy's hair and kissing Aziraphale's forehead. "Hello, fellas."

"That or he stole the works of other people. I do remember a story about that, dear,"

"Nah. My demon story sounds better, angel," Crowley winked at Adam who giggled and followed the man to the table leaving Aziraphale to his books and notes.

-

"What did I tell you about disturbing him?" Crowley asked once he saw the blonde man was back to his studying.

"I didn't do anything. He just started talking about people and when I said I heard about Shakespeare, he started talking about him," Adam explained, wide-eyed.

"Well, just don't talk to him next time. He's taking a test next week and he needs all the time to review,"

"How about you, uncle Tony? Don't you have a test?" Crowley shook his head at that. He hasn't been in school for some time. He was a third-year student when he decided to drop out and pursue music. He and his pals were just getting gigs here and there when he met Aziraphale that night. They just finished a set and they were off to another place when he spotted him and he thought a drink wouldn't hurt. Especially if he can drink with the man and maybe take him home.

Oh how he had gotten more than he bargained for.

-

*Present day*

"And I started calling you uncle Ezra because I can't say your name. I can say it now, though, but I like Ezra better,"

"You've indeed always had a knack for telling things your way. I remember you getting a puppy and naming it 'dog'. How's dog, by the way?"

"Old fella has died. Doggy years hadn't been kind but he was loved at home," a sad smile graced the younger boy's face. They are at the park now and as if on cue, a dog barked and ran back to a little boy, no older than Adam when he got dog himself.

"I'm sorry to hear that. I didn't know,"

"I told uncle Tony about it. Didn't he tell you?" Adam stared, something in his eyes curious yet knowing.

"I suppose he forgot," he smiled and watched the boy play with his dog.

-

*Junior year, College*

"You weren't there,"

Crowley greeted upon entering his flat, guitar behind him. Aziraphale excused himself and pulled Crowley outside to talk to him.

"I have been calling you but I couldn't reach your phone,"

"I was playing, angel. Of course, it'd be off," he grimaced at him, his voice filled with condescension. "And why weren't you there?"

"That's why I was calling you. I couldn't come because our professor sent back the draft and we don't really have much time until we need to submit it again for re-checking. We had to revise it as soon as we can,"

"Oh, so it's my fault that your draft came in late?"

"Crowley, please, you know this is impor - "

"And this is important to me too! Our band for the first time played in front of a real audience and you weren't there like it's not a big deal!"

"It is a big deal and I am proud of you! But this is my future and it's important to me too," Aziraphale explained and he expected Crowley to let it go. Like he always does when they fight about small things like this. Crowley always understood because Crowley cares about them.

But he was met with silence where he was expecting acceptance.

"And I don't suppose you see me somewhere in that future, huh?" he spoke, amber eyes devoid of any emotion.

"It's not that, dear, our futu - "

"Is nowhere conceivable for you. I'm a dropout and you have everything laid out for you. I don't fit anywhere in that little fancy life of yours, do I?" Crowley cut in, leaving him gaping before he can even answer and it hurts. It hurts because Crowley never walked out. He always embraced him and they apologize and they make up. They don't - walk out -

It wasn't the first and definitely not the last. Their fights became frequent and even Adam, a child, would ask them to stop but they only stopped talking. Not really making up.

When he talked to his mum about it, she told him that couples do fight and a healthy relationship never faired without one. But was it still healthy when he can almost schedule in their thesis meeting because their fights became a routine?

-

They were walking in the park when Aziraphale popped the question. He wasn't going to, really. He was going to wait for him to tell him because no matter how much they fought, they were honest. Crowley never lied to him and he never lied to Crowley and he was holding on to that. Until of course Michael asked him if he's sure there wasn't anyone else.

And Crowley, as always, never disappointed.

-

*Present day*

"Comes with the fame, I guess. I thought being a rockstar wasn't really about all those booze and girls like they show on the telly. Guess they got that right," Adam laughed before he turned to Aziraphale, very serious and very much apologetic. "Oh no. I'm so sorry, Uncle Ezra. I thought - I didn't know! I thought you guys were together. He even gave me the name of the school you're teaching in. I'm so sorry." Adam continued, all of a sudden not very sure what to do with his hands.

"You don't have to apologize my dear boy. What's done is done. I am just glad you decided to reach out to me,"

"Are you kidding me? You are one of the coolest and nicest people I know and you make the best cocoa!" Adam smiled. That made Aziraphale smile too for a bit.

"I - I was jealous, you know. The way you two looked at each other. It reminded me a lot of when my mum and dad would just look at each other and it's like they're talking but they're not. I wanted something like that," Adam continued "I want someone who would look at me like that."

"We were young and perhaps very much in love but we can't let it hold us back so we moved on and walked different roads," he answered and Adam, bless him, for all his wisdom and youth, understood and only nodded, letting silence do its work.

-

*Senior year, college*

Despite Crowley's absence in his flat, Adam continued to appear. He never really asked because whenever he'd see Crowley, the man would only say he's busy with the band and remind him not to disturb Aziraphale when he's studying.

Sometimes he would make Adam bring the other a cake and tell Adam to say that his parents gave it. He never really understood why he had to say that but he just did and it was worth the delight he'd see in his friend's face.

"We're moving back to Tadfield next month. Dad said his boss allowed him to work from home and he only has to go to the office twice a month," he said one night after he ate dinner with his uncle Ezra.

"That's good, isn't it? You'd see your friends again. Pepper, and Wensleydale, and Brian?"

"Yeah. But you'll be alone here. Uncle Tony hardly drops by and you're ways studying,"

"I'll be fine, young dear. Don't you worry about me,"

-

The next month arrived and Adam said goodbye. Crowley was there to help them move some of their things but after they disappeared, he was gone too. Not even a word. And Aziraphale went back to his flat, thinking if he's only been a little bolder. To ask how he was. How his new love was. If only it didn't hurt just seeing him.

But it did, didn't it?

Because he couldn't - he wasn't -

The rain fell heavily that night. He prayed for his loved ones to be safe and if he cried himself to sleep, London was too busy for it to hear.

-

*Present day*

"I should probably go. I promised Brian I would help him with a research," Adam decided once stories ran out and everyone is up to date. "Wensley and Pepper might be dropping by too but I'm not really sure."

"Say hi to them for me, then,"

"And where are you going after?"

"I don't really know. I'll probably stay and feed the ducks," he smiled and pointed towards the waters with his thumb. Adam nodded and gave him one last hug before going, his back not as painful to watch for he knew he'd see him again someday. Older, wiser, perhaps happier.

-

*Graduation day, college*

"I do hope you consider our offer of teaching at the university. We would be honored to have one of our best share their talent and mind to the future students of the school," Mr. Shadwell smiled, shaking his hands after talking to his parents.

"Allow me some time to think about it, sir. For now, I'd like to savor the fruits of my labor," he smiled, politely turning to his parents and asking them if he can rest in the car.

"Hey, Fell," he heard and turned to find Ligur and his friend Hastur. Hastur used to live in the same building until he moved in with Ligur and they shared a space together with Beel and that other person he forgot the name of.

"Ligur, Hastur. What can I do for you?"

"Just came over to say congratulations. Ligur also graduated today," Hastur smiled. He and Hastur used to talk back then. When he moved out, he only ever saw him on campus and usually with his group of friends.

"Thank you. Congratulations to you, Ligur. We made it," he smiled. Ligur only nodded before he elbowed Hastur and pointed to the flowers he was holding.

"Oh, right. Er, a gift. Happy graduation day," he smiled and gave the flowers. Before he can even ask, the two walked away and he was stuck with a bouquet of assorted flowers.

'I didn't know what to get for the occasion so I got them all instead'

-

*Present day*

Aziraphale walked along St. James park, watching people, listening to chatter here and there. He sat and looked around, remembering a time when he enjoyed coming here with someone holding their hand, sharing a book.

A time when he thought time stopped and trapped him in the arms of the one he loves.

A time he would've happily accepted it as long as he was there.

He sighed. It was almost 3 and he needs to be somewhere. He's been pretty busy, hasn't he? Always doing this and that. Always walking, talking, going around and around doing things for people.

Maybe today he'd stop. Maybe he would stay for a while and feed the ducks.

“I once heard that agents used to feed the ducks here that they've developed a Pavlovian reaction to them,” he heard a soft voice speak next to him and he stopped. The air became thin but his chest felt full all of a sudden.

“They’ve been keeping me company is all," he answered weakly, slowly turning to the stranger next to him and seeing amber eyes. Amber so bright it reminded him of freshly harvested honey in spring, glistening under the bright warm sky.

"Crowley," he spoke, voice breaking.

"Aziraphale. Thought you've forgotten me, angel," Crowley spoke carefully, unsure. So unsure Aziraphale can almost taste his hesitation.

He smiled. The first sincere smile he did since he can remember.

"How can I?"


End file.
